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Trying
Prologue Trying to Hope A ten-year old boy was perched on the windowsill, looking outside at the rain falling in heavy sheets, striking the ground. He felt coldness envelop around him. The room was almost dark, except for a lampshade glowing in a bluish light, falling on the rosy cheeks of a young girl, sheets wrapped around her, sitting on her bed and staring into space, a million questions going on her mind. They were twins, twins with garbled conflicts about their past that always keeps haunting them. Especially now. There was a noisy creak as the door swung open. Lightning rolled across the sky. The twins suddenly shifted their gazes towards the door. Tension filled the room. "Is everything alright there?" A woman entered, her face hardened with tireless working. She was once beautiful, but it didn't show these days. She spoke in a voice that was once full of life and music, but now was weary and sad. The girl smiled in a feeble way as she relaxed her clenched fists, looking at the woman with eyes trying to figure out what is wrong. The boy, rebellious as he is, kept silent to himself, and returned to watching the storm outside. "Get off the windowsill, dear. You'll fall." The woman told the boy. The boy shifted his weight but didn't leave. A gale rustled his brown hair. The woman sighed. The sound rolled out with strain. The boy huffed and turned to face her. His eyes were not of anger, however. They were pleading eyes, trying to pull out his wanted answers from the woman. Recognizing the look, the woman turned away, old scars reopening, pained. How many times does she have to tell them? They don't deserve to know. "When will you tell us, Mom?" The girl, in a serene tone, asked. "About our father." That last word struck quite a blow on the woman's heart. She knew what she had done years ago was a mistake. The children should have never been born. But she forced herself not to think that way and to calm down. She gave a fake smile. But her expression told the children much more. No, she wasn't going to tell them. "At least tell us if he's going to come back." The girl hopefully insisted. The mother gave out a shaky breath and turned to leave. The boy gave a frustrated shout. His twin's eyes drooped sadly, her hopes dashed. But once their mother was out of the room, she gave an answer. "Never." Chapter One Trying to Run She was ready to give up. She was pale and starved, her body aching all over. Her heart can't stop beating fast, and she kept looking behind her for any sign of pursuers. Trinity was lost in the woods. She tasted her salty tears as she sat on the soft earth. Blades of grass tickled her skin as a breeze swept by and fluttered a few stray locks of silvery hair. Her eyes flicked side to side, as if in some hope, she would find Tristan, her twin brother, companion, best friend. The trees towered over her, stretching slender, leafy branches, making a canopy that protected her of the harsh sunbeams. The light now filtered through the leaves pleasantly, greenish and gentle. Trinity couldn't help admire the scenic surroundings. If only life wasn't this hard, she thought to herself, clutching the soil beside her. Her chest doesn't seem to work properly. Every breath was a hard labor to her. Slumber fell on her like a thick blanket out of tiredness. She successfully fought it. It was too dangerous to sleep in the midst of a thick forest, especially when someone was tirelessly hunting for her. The afternoon was silent, as if the woods itself was asleep. Only Trinity was shifting restlessly on her earthen seat, her ears and eyes sharp for any danger that will approach, and to somehow, find Tristan. Time slipped quickly, and soon the sun had arrived in the west. The air cooled, and the insects began to stir in their secret homes. It wasn't actually comforting to hear something rather than your own breath, or your companion's voice. This was how Trinity felt. Her left hand was resting on her dagger, a weapon she had found in the ruins of her old house. The painful memories began to shake her terribly as she touched the rough metal under her skin. There would be no one she could trust now, she swore as she gripped the knife. No one. There was a queer sound behind her, like footsteps making its way forward. Trinity, finding it impossible to even take one free breath, quietly unsheathed her dagger from the dusty scabbard. "Trinity, thank-" A familiar male voice started to speak but was cut short when the girl, out of nervousness, moved blurringly fast and lunged the tip of the dagger in the stranger's hand. The scream of surprise and pain jolted Trinity to her normal senses. She looked at the dagger, which fell on the grass with drops of blood stained on its shiny silver blade, then at the wounded hand, glowing crimson against white skin, and finally at the face of her victim. Her mouth fell open as she took in the golden-red hair, light green eyes that matched perfectly with hers and the pained expression she had seen a million times before. Tristan. Without a word, too relieved and too surprised, she darted forward and hugged him tightly. Tristan, his hand still and limp, gave a little smile as he finally had found his sister. Then he groaned, shifting his eyes to the bleeding gash. "I'm so sorry, Tan." Trinity locked eyes with her brother, a genuine apologetic look on her face once flushed with worry. Her twin just shook his head. He watched solemnly as his wound suddenly stopped bleeding, then reduced to nothing but a scar, until finally, it was gone. Trinity watched too, ominous as her brother, and then gave a remark to fill the silence haunting her. "Lucky we have that ability." She said softly. "Yeah." Tristan agreed, flexing his hand to remove the stiffness. He picked up the dagger that had scratched him, wiped the blood from the metal with his shirt and gave it to Trinity. "Don't be so tense next time." He told her playfully. Trinity rolled her eyes but accepted the knife and sheathed it. "Sure, and don't be so Charlie's Angels." The tall bushes behind them began to rustle, as if something....or someone was behind it. "Run!" Trinity yelled. Tristan doesn't need to be told. He began running furiously forward, not looking behind him. His speed was too fast for a regular mortal. Trinity caught up with him, breathing hard, face so intense as if she's going to die. Which maybe is true. Out from the bushes emerged an armored man, bronze sword raised. His face was disguised behind a helmet of silver. It was impossible to run in that suit of metal. But as he saw the two running away, he gave chase, lithe and speedy as if no metal was burdening him. Category:Storm Legends Category:Storm wolf01